


i don't want you like a best friend

by daisyjohnsons



Category: Tiny Pretty Things (TV)
Genre: Could Be Canon, F/F, Kissing, could be canon more like Should be canon am i right, girls be kissing!, i watched this entire show in one day., im so mad i CANNOT believe this is the first junette fic, yes that is their ship name now idc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyjohnsons/pseuds/daisyjohnsons
Summary: her muscles burn as she stretches, and she welcomes the feeling; it reminds her of how her legs burned as she danced with bette, both of them pushing themselves to their limit to see if the other could keep up, staring into each other’s eyes with as much affection as there was anger.or, the follow up to june and bette dancing together in episode nine
Relationships: Bette Whitlaw/June Park
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	i don't want you like a best friend

**Author's Note:**

> hello watching the dance scene felt like a fever dream i am so angry they didnt kiss at LEAST once they literally gave me june kissing a girl in a dream and didn't give me june/bette kiss sounds fake to me! fake as hell! anyways yeah this show sucks ass but im a weak bitch for hot dancing girls so leave me be! i am allowed to like tiny pretty things because i am a lesbian and also sexy. title is from dress by taylor swift. guess why. okay enjoy now!

June Park has always seen her life as a line.

She will grow up, find something she’s passionate about, marry, and die. On the way she will face challenges and she will struggle, but in the end she will find happiness and she’ll die knowing she accomplished something. That was always the goal, even before she found the courage to tell her mother her passion and her dreams involved ballet. 

Happiness is still her goal. It’s just that now the line between good and bad, between success and happiness, is so blurred and so confusing.

(she used to think bette used that line like a jump rope. she knows now that bette’s mother might as well have strangled her with it.)

Happiness is no longer a picket fence and a husband and accomplished children and a proud mother. It’s the feeling she had when Neveah smirked and said, “Damn, girl,” when June took her advice during their post class practices. It’s the feeling of Ramon watching her dance and critiquing her every move because he’s _watching_ her. It’s the feeling of her, Bette, and Neveah walking away from her shell shocked mother, arms linked and smiles wide. It’s the feeling of dancing with Nabil and knowing they are incredible. 

And above all, it’s the dream of bright lights pointed at her, a crowd watching with bated breath as she dances across the stage, light as a feather and graceful as an angel and thunderous applause, her name in lights and on thousands of programs. 

June Park is no longer naive. She’s seen the darkness the world has to offer and she’s seen what becoming a part of that darkness can do someone, but she’s also seen the rewards it can reap. So, sure. Her morals are taking a turn for the worse. She’s angrier and more ambitious than ever. But she’s getting what she wants, and isn’t that worth it? 

Her muscles burn as she stretches, and she welcomes the feeling, it reminds her of how her legs burned as she danced with Bette, both of them pushing themselves to their limit to see if the other could keep up, staring into each other’s eyes with as much affection as there was anger. 

“June.”

Speak of the devil.

June brings herself out of her split and looks up. Bette’s eyes are full of fire, which is only mildly confusing, because Bette’s anger is usually ice. June starts to get to her feet, but Bette shoves her back down, which, go figure. Bette is a mere five feet and four inches and June towers over her at five foot nine, so Bette usually tries to do anything to make herself feel taller during their confrontations.

“What is it, Bette?” June sighs, leaning back on her hands. Bette is visibly red and more upset than June has seen her in quite some time. It’s satisfying to see her like this, when she’s always the ice queen, making June feel unreasonable for feeling any kind of anger. 

“What the _hell_ was that today? You go from taking shit and fighting with me to making me dance _with_ you when you never even wanted me to dance in the first place?”

“I didn’t _go from_ fighting with you,” June replies, as casually as possible. Seeing Bette’s face turn a deeper shade of red as she realizes their usual roles are reversed is absolutely lovely. “Dancing can be fighting. Besides, we looked good.”

“Please, we looked _fucking amazing_ , but that’s not the point. _Why_ , June?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Did you want to, or did the whiskey want to?” Bette snaps. “Did you think I couldn’t smell it? I’ve been drinking since I hit fifteen. You aren’t subtle.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Fucking _obviously_ . You storm into the studio, Nabil following you like a lost puppy, and drag me into dancing with you. _Why?_ ”

June tries to stand up again, but Bette shoves her again, and this time, follows her down. June’s eyes go wide when Bette quite literally _sits on her lap_ , keeping her on the ground, and she looks like she’s considering murder. “June, I want to know why,” she says, and it’s almost angry and it’s almost sad and it’s almost desperate, and a part of June _aches_. The same part of her that dragged her lips to Nabil’s.

“You tell me, Bette. Why didn’t you stop me?” June responds. Bette’s eyes are blue. Icy. They match her personality, or rather, the personality she shows the world. The ice queen ballerina, cold and heartless, beautiful and talented. June thinks a closer representation of her is her lips. Full, almost always turned into a frown, unless a smile will help her get what she wants. She’s looking at those same lips now. They’re so close and so far and she truly doesn’t know if Bette meant to get this close.

“I—” Bette bites her bottom lip, and June follows the movement so closely she thinks she might die. “I—”

“You _what_ , Bette?”

“I wanted you!” It’s sudden, as if she meant to think it but her lips moved before she could. 

“To dance with you?”

Bette’s angry again, all fire, all spark. “For fucks sake, _no._ I _wanted_ you. I _want_ you.”

She moves so suddenly, and then her fire meets June’s in the middle and they’re _kissing_. It’s not like Nabil. It is also sudden, yes, but it isn’t gentle. Bette bites down on her lip a mere second after their lips meet and June feels a small groan being torn from her throat. Bette doesn’t hesitate to use June’s distraction to shove her the rest of the way to the floor, shifting her weight and pinning June’s wrists above her head with one hand. June could easily get free, and that knowledge is why she doesn’t. Instead, she keeps her lips and her body close to Bette, using what freedom she has to shift Bette even closer. 

Bette pulls back only once, a question in her eyes, and it’s not something June had ever expected from her, but then again, neither is _this_. 

“Bette,” June gasps, out of breath. “Bette, if I didn’t want this I would have done a lot worse than shove my tongue in your mouth.”

Bette laughs just as harshly as she kisses and she lets go of June’s wrists, only to pull her shirt over her head. June is truly confused, because it seems almost mechanical, almost instinct, as if the gesture is another thing that’s expected of her. June thinks of her relationship with Oren and how often Bette would disappear to his room during her vulnerable moments, and Bette makes a little bit more sense that she did before. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. My tits are hot, though, so be glad I want to. You?”

“If you want me to, sure.”

Bette rolls her eyes. “Fuck, June, when are you going to stop pretending I’m in charge of you? It was convenient at first but now it’s just concerning— _oh_.”

June doesn’t hesitate to flip them over and remove her own shirt, then take her hair out of its ponytail. She hangs over Bette, hands on either side of her head, and smirks. “That better, Bette?”

And because Bette gives as good as she gets and more, she smirks right back. “Almost.” She grabs June by the back of her neck, and pulls her back in, using her leg to pull June’s hips to hers. “Much better,” she quips, still smirking. June is rolling her eyes as she kisses her again.

It is just as violent as their entire friendship, like walking on a tightrope with someone you know would push you to your death for a chance in the spotlight. It’s burning, not the way June’s gut continues to burn from the alcohol, but the way her muscles feel as she tries to find her limits and push them further. If kissing Nabil was a controlled burn, this is a wildfire. This will certainly end in their downfall.

June smiles as she takes Bette’s bottom lip between hers, and grins when Bette bites back so hard, June tastes blood. This is mutually assured destruction, this thing that could end them both, and it makes June feel more alive than anything has in her entire life. So when Bette turns them over again and mouths her way down June’s neck and down her chest, June arches into the touch, because if they’re going to burn alive, they’re going to have a damn good time doing so. 

**Author's Note:**

> if u are for some reason reading this u can come follow me on twitter @ dcisyjohnsons if you want! we can talk about junette! also this is so unedited im too sexy to edit stuff i write


End file.
